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was on the roof of the carriage."
"On the roof!"
"Exactly. We could not explain the
absence of a ticket. This would ex
plain it. Everything fits together.
"We have quite a little round of
afternoon calls to make," said he. "I
think that Sir James Walter claims
our first attention."
A butler answered our ring.
"Sir James, sir!" said he with sol
emn face. "Sir James died this morn
ing." "Perhaps you would care to step
in, sir, and see his brother, Colonel
Valentine."
"Yes, we had best do so."
We were ushered into a dim-lit
drawing-room, where an instant later
we were joined by a very tall, hand
some, light-bearded man of fifty, the
younger brother of the dead, scien
tist. His wild eyes, stained cheeks
and unkempt hair all spoke of the
sudden blow which had fallen upon
the household.
"It was this horrible scandal," said
he. "My brother, Sir James, was a
man of very sensitive honor, and he
could not survive such an affair. It
broke his heart. He was always so
proud of the efficiency of his depart
ment, and this was a crushing blow."
"This is indeed an unexpected de
velopment," said my friend when we
had regained the cab. "Now we shall
turn to the Cadogan Wests."
A small but well-kept house in the
outskirts of the town sheltered the
bereaved mother. The old lady was
too dazed with grief to be of any use
to us, but at her side was a white
faced young lady, who introduced
herself as Miss Violet Westbury, the
fiancee of the dead man, and the last
to see him on that fatal night.
"I can not explain it, Mr. Holmes,"
she said. "Arthur was the most single-minded,
patriotic man upon earth.
He would have cut his right hand
off before he would sell a state secret
confided to his keeping.'.'
"No signs of any mental excitement."
"Yes," she said, at last. "I had a
feeling that there was something on
his mind."
"Now, tell us of that last evening."
"We were to go to the theater. The
fog was so thick that a cab was use
less. We walked and our way took
us close to the office. Suddenly he
darted away into the fog."
Holmes shook his head sadly.
Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior
clerk, met us at the office.
"It is bad, Mr. Holmes, very bad!
Have you heard of the death of the
Chief?"
"We have just come from his
house."
"The place is disorganized. That
West, of all men, should have done
such a thing!"
"You are sure of his guilt, then?"
"I can see no other way out of it.
And yet, I would have trusted him
as I trust myself."
"Let us reconstruct, Watson," said
Holmes, after half an hour of silence.
"I am not aware that in all our joint
researches we have ever had a case
which was more difficult to get at.
Every fresh advance which we make
only reveals a fresh ridge beyond. And
yet we have surely made some appre
ciable progress.
"Let us suppose, for example, that
West had been approached by some
foreign agent. It might have been
done under such pledges as would
have prevented him from speaking of
it, and yet would have affected his
thoughts in the direction indicated by
his remarks to his fiancee. Very
good. We will now suppose that as
he went to the theater with the young
lady he suddenly, in the fog, caught
a glimpse of this same agent going
in the direction of the office. He was
an impetuous man, quick in his deci
sions. Everything gave way to his
duty. He followed the man, reached
the window, saw the abstraction of
the documents, and pursued the thief.
"My instinct now is to work from
the other I end. If Mycrbft has given
us the list of addresses, we may be
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